


Libro Clava

by rayking



Category: Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury, IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abusive Father, Anal Pounding, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood As Lube, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Budding Love, Crack, Eating Disorders, Established Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Fire, Foster Care, Group Homes, Guy Montag - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Rare Pairings, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smoking, Supernatural100 | Supernatural Drabble Community, Superwholock, The rarest of pairs, Undercover As Gay, emo/nerd, fire kink, gay relationship, self-inflicted burning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayking/pseuds/rayking
Summary: Ray Bradbury, a budding writer and your local thickie, starts at a new school. Because of his abusive father, he resorts to food and burning himself for comfort. His whole life is turned upside down when he meets the school's bad boy and your local stickie, he discovers his name is Stephen King. The school's bad boy has a reputation for being "a talented yet disrespectful literary genius” among the English department at the school. Ray desperately wants to be his friend, but Stephen is stone cold. Can Ray ever pick his way through the ice? Or perhaps he must use flames!
Relationships: stephen king/ray bradbury
Kudos: 4





	1. A Pleasure to Burn

It was a pleasure to burn.

It was a sick kind of pleasure to inflict the same pain my father had inflicted on me so many times before. My father couldn't even tell the difference between the scars he left and the scars I left, when he was sober at least.

I was starting at a new school tomorrow morning. A month late too. As if I need another reason for people to stare at me.

I tugged my sleeve, pulling it down my arm. I stood up and looked at the mirror. Ugh, I thought, disappointed. The urge to cram sweets into my mouth both intensified and died down upon my reflection.

I decided to just get some sleep.

* * *

"Ray!" My father shouted from downstairs. "Don't make me late!"

I jumped to my feet and pulled on whatever clothes looked clean and covered my arms.

My father was sitting at the table reading his newspaper with his morning coffee and cigarette. I waited patiently by the door for him to notice me.

"You just gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna have breakfast?"

Licking my lips subconsciously, I floated to the fridge. I opened it only for my father to tell me to shut it.

"Just have a piece of damned fruit for once. That's all you need for breakfast."

My head dropped, ashamed. I passed on the fruit and shoved a breakfast bar in my bag and then, for lunch, I made a sandwich (or two, or three…) for myself.

My father stood up and put his empty mug in the sink. He took the cigarette that was hanging out of his mouth and I heard a gasp. _That_ couldn't have been me. My father shot me a sharp glance and crushed his cigarette in his hand and threw it out.

"You know," I started, for whatever reason, "You should really wet cigarettes before throwing them out. You could start a fire and-"

"Do you ever shut up?"

I shut up.

My father made his way to the car and I chased after him for he was doing the Harry Truman 120-steps-to-the-minute march. He almost slammed the front door in my face.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, taking me back. "About school?"

"A little." I glanced over at him. "Has to be better than my old one."

Other than that, we were quiet the rest of the way. My father smoked another cigarette out of the window and I frowned.

I walked into school with my head hung low, hoping no one would see me. I went to the office to retrieve my schedule and then went to my first period. It was English, which I always liked.

I took the empty seat floating in the middle of the classroom. My teacher was sitting at her desk on her laptop as kids began to pour into the classroom.

I looked up just in time to see him walk in. He was tall and thin in the way I always wanted to be and dressed in the way I was too afraid to. He made his way to the back of the classroom and opened a thick book.

The teacher stood up and went to the front of the class.

"Before I get started," she began. "If I could just direct your attention to the new student."

My eyes flew wide. Did she just do that? I thought as the rest of the class looked at me, she couldn't have just done that.

I felt color rise to my face.

"Well? Don't you want to introduce yourself?"

"Oh...My name is Raymond, or ah, just Ray is fine."

She looked as if she expected more, but didn't press on. She started on about the assignment the class had just started.

"Pick out a classic, Raymond," she said after seeing the confusion on my face.

I couldn't help but look back at the skinny boy. He was reading _Frankenstein_ and suddenly I wanted to read it too. He briefly looked up at me, a flash of curiosity brightening his eyes, before returning to his book.

When everyone else was reading, the teacher came up to me. She extended her arm and placed _Crime and Punishment_ onto my desk.

"Just for now," she explained. "Or you could keep it as your choice book."

And she was back at her desk.

I started reading my book but before I could get too invested in it, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whipped my head back to see him holding his pencil out.

"I find you intriguing," he mumbled. "What's your name?"

I was offended. "Ray," I said. And I said it before, but I didn't add that aloud.

"Okay, _Ray_."

And then he was back to reading.

I let my eyes linger for a few moments too long before returning to my own book.

* * *

By the time lunch rolled around, my nerves were shot. It was good timing, because lunch was— embarrassingly enough my favorite time of the day; it allowed me to take a break and to do my favorite thing: eat.

I sat down at a table, alone, and pulled out my lunch and the breakfast bar I somehow had forgotten to eat.

After I finished my breakfast bar and after eating my first sandwich but before I could shove the other two sandwiches down my throat, the skinny boy from before came. He didn't seem to have lunch, which made me all the more ashamed of what was left of my lunch for three—and a half.

"Two sandwiches, huh?"

My face felt hot and I _almost_ gave him one, inwardly relieved to only have two sandwiches now instead of three.

"Well, ah-"

"Ray, was it?"

For the third time? "Yeah…"

"Stephen," he said.

I looked behind me. "Who?"

"Me, dumbass." And then corrected himself. " _My_ name is Stephen—King, Stephen King."

I didn't know how to respond so I nodded. He watched as I jammed my lunch into my mouth, trying to make it disappear as quickly as possible, before speaking again.

"There's this book club," he started, looking disgusted, "I have to recruit people for it."

I looked up at him.

"So...you're in?"

My reply was muffled by food, but it was: "Of course I'm in."

Stephen didn't even hint at a smile. "Room 451," he said. "I guess I'll see you there."

He left and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

When lunch was over, twenty minutes after I had scarfed down _my_ lunch, I made my way to my next class, the book club lingering on my mind. As much as I did love reading and writing, I wasn't sure if it was the right fit for me. But, the idea of being able to see Stephen again…

I don't remember the rest of my classes that day.

* * *

I peeked into the window of Room 451 to see if Stephen was in the room and sure enough he was. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pushed the door open.

When I had actually went in I saw he was...the only one there. His nose was shoved so far in a book that he didn't even notice me coming in.

"Hey," I said, attempting to be casual.

Stephen pulled his nose out from the book. "Oh," he said. "You showed up."

"Yeah...is anyone else going to?"

"Probably not. I asked about a dozen people, but no one seemed interested." He paused. "Except you, _Ray_."

"Oh," passed through my lips. I sat down in one of the empty chairs he had put in a circle. "Well, I am."

Stephen closed his book, keeping his forefinger jammed into it to save his page. He tilted his head this way, then that way.

"Welcome to book club," he mumbled unceremoniously. "Since it's just the two of us, you should probably learn to have a conversation with me."

I felt a pang of hunger. I opened my mouth, then closed it, opened, closed until I looked like a gaping fish.

"For starters...don't do that."

I slammed my jaw shut. I glanced at him, my eyes widening briefly, before finally saying, "So, is there snacks? Or should I bring my own?"

"I don't think you need to bring any," Stephen said and I immediately knew what he meant by it. He swept it under the rug, "we don't want to get anything on the books, you know?"

"Of course!" I replied, stepping over the rug. "I always like keeping my books pristine."

"Hmph," he gave in reply and bowed his head over his book.

Instead of reading my book or, Heaven-forbid, trying to start a conversation, I watched Stephen as he read. It was...intriguing; the way he was completely and utterly immersed into his book. He was hunched over with the book on his lap.

I got the feeling he was about to look up so I quickly darted my gaze away.

"It's a book club, you know."

"I do...know that."

"So," he motioned to my empty hands, "Where's your book?"

"Oh—"

"Stop saying that."

"Ah, it's…" My voice betrayed me and gave out. I managed, "In my bag."

Stephen looked at me expectantly. His gaze burned through my shirt before I reached into my bag.

"It doesn't have to be your book from class," he said.

"I know." But I didn't. "I just really like it."

Stephen gave another low hum in reply. He put his head back in the book. I began to think that maybe going to a new school wasn't all that bad...


	2. Observations

We lie best when we lie to ourselves.

When you think about it, everything is a complete and utter lie that keeps people lost in a fog of blissful ignorance. People would much rather live a lie and be happy than know the cold, unforgiving truth and live with the suffering that comes with it. I was once like them; ignorant, foolish, blind. I pity them. The truth is unpleasant, yes, but I'd much rather bear the pain than live like them.

I walk through the narrow halls of this pathetic school and keep my eyes cast downward, trying to avoid the gaze of as many people as possible. I saw most of them over the weekend at various parties—Hell, I've fucked most of them—but that doesn't mean I want to see them any more than I have to. Just because I used you on the weekend and we were friends for one drunken night, doesn't mean I want anything to do with you; I want the opposite, in fact.

"Hey, Stephen," a girl I never bothered to learn the name of said to me as she passed by, looking like she was about to start walking with me, but quickly changed her mind. I ignored her, knowing she'd probably just want to talk about whatever happened between us at a party or homework for a class I didn't know we shared. This is how my days usually go; people try to talk to me, I ignore them, I do the bare minimum in my classes, I read any and all books I can get my hands on, I pretend to care about my girlfriend, I go home, maybe fuck someone who's not my girlfriend, eat, sleep, and repeat.

I stepped into my first class of the day exactly two minutes after the bell rang and sat quietly at my desk in the middle of the last row, reaching into my beaten backpack for my copy of Frankenstein and began reading. I noticed that the teacher briefly looked up at me, but disregarded my presence afterward. That's how it went every day. I was usually late and I was always reading and she knew by now to not interrupt me because I'd ignore her anyway. All the English teachers knew that about me since I'm notorious amongst the English department as a "talented yet disrespectful literary genius"—I may or may not have come up with that title on my own, but either way, they know me and they know I'm smart when it comes to English.

I expected that today would follow as any other boring day did, but that idea was quickly thrown out the window when the teacher stood at the front of the class and asked the new kid to introduce himself. I heard him say his name was Raymond, or Ray, but not much else. I looked up briefly, admittedly curious about the new kid, and made eye contact with him. I held his gaze for the longest of seconds before returning to my book, though I was still thinking about him in the back of my mind.

The first thing I noticed about him was that he's big. Like, fat. And he was exactly the type of person you'd expect to be named Raymond; nervous, awkward, and a little strange. I don't know why, but I find him intriguing. The writer in me wants to know more.

Moments after, the teacher gave him a book for our current assignment and the class officially began. I tapped him on the shoulder with my pencil to get his attention.

He turned around and, with the slightest of smirks, I mumbled lowly, "I find you intriguing. What's your name?" I already knew his name, but I wanted him to introduce himself again, just because I'm an asshole.

He looked insulted that I asked his name just after he introduced himself to the class, but still answered, saying skeptically, "Ray."

My smirk grew ever so slightly at his reply. "Okay, Ray." And with that, I returned to my book.

When the bell rang for lunch, I shoved my things into my backpack and made my way to the cafeteria, quickly noticing that most tables were already occupied by cliques and randoms I had no intentions of sitting with. However, I did notice Ray sitting at a table towards the back of the room, alone. I made my way over just in time to see him finishing off a sandwich and placing the plastic bag that contained it next to the wrapper for a breakfast bar I'm assuming he ate as well. There were two more sandwiches sitting in front of him.

He looked up at me, seemingly embarrassed and I chose to pretend I hadn't noticed the sandwich and bar he'd already eaten. "Two sandwiches, huh?"

He began to stammer something out, but I figured it'd be some quick defense that I didn't need to hear and cut him off. "Ray, was it?"

"Yeah…"

After a moment of awkward silence, I decided that I should introduce myself. "Stephen," I said.

"Who?" He asked, looking around as if I was speaking to someone else. Is this fucker serious?

"Me, dumbass," I said, my voice sounding harsher than I meant. I paused for a split second before starting my introduction over. "My name is Stephen—King, Stephen King."

He nodded and began to scarf down his two remaining sandwiches, which I watched him do in slight awe. He could probably eat my body-weight worth of food and still have room for dessert. I can't tell if it's repulsive or amazing.

When he was done, I coughed to clear my throat (and remind him that I'm still here…) and spoke again. "There's this book club and I have to recruit people for it."

He stared at me for a while, not saying anything.

I raised my eyebrows a bit and pushed, "so...you're in?"

"Of course I'm in," he replied, bits of food flying from his still partially full mouth. I resisted the urge to scrunch up my face in disgust.

"Room 451. I guess I'll see you there." I said before turning and walking away, deciding to go out behind the school and smoke while I read.

See you then indeed, Ray.

At 2:30 on the dot, I packed up my bag and exited my last class of the day quickly, not sparing my teacher or the room a second glance. I had Frankenstein clutched in my left hand and my backpack, heavy with about a dozen other books I planned on reading in the upcoming days, slung over my right shoulder. In regards to school supplies, I had a single 500 paged notebook and three blue Bic pens. All seven classes (six of which I didn't care for) shared these four things.

I walked briskly to room 451 and unlocked the door with the key a teacher had lent to me for running the club. I switched on the lights and looked around. The room was decently sized, dusty as all hell, and lacking furnishings beyond desks and a blackboard. Simple, but effective for what I'm planning. I started moving things around and set up the room so members of the club would be sitting in a circle. Eventually, I planned that we'd all just sit wherever we'd like within the room, but for now (the first few meetings, at least), we'd face each other for introductions.

After I finished setting up, I sat in a chair and began reading Frankenstein once again.

5 Minutes passed. No one showed.

10 minutes passed. No one showed.

15 minutes passed. No one showed.

Fuck it. Fuck everyone. I fucking reached out and tried to do something mildly interesting in this shit hole of a school and it turned around and fucked me in the ass.

I shook my head slightly in both anger and frustration and continued to read, giving up on the idea of anyone joining me.

As if any God out there heard me, Ray stumbled through the door. I looked up, admittedly a little excited to see him, but made sure to keep myself composed in order not to look like a complete loser. He looked slightly panicked and sweaty. Gross. I guess I can't complain though.

"Hey," he said.

"Oh. You showed up," I remarked, temporarily pulling my face from my book.

"Yeah...is anyone else going to?" He asked awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Probably not. I asked about a dozen people, but no one seemed interested," I paused and gave a slight smirk. "Except you, Ray."

I watched him sit and saved my page in my book. I tilted my head back and forth to crack my neck. "Welcome to the book club…since it's just the two of us, you should probably learn how to have a conversation with me."

Ray looked like he wanted to say something, opening his mouth only to close it again. It was annoying and strange to watch. I kept a mental note to someday write a character with that odd reaction to uncomfortable situations. It should be relatable to the awkward youth.

"For starters… don't do that," I drawled.

He looked embarrassed, even a little hurt, at my statement and closed his mouth before finally being able to verbalize what was on his mind. "So, is there snacks? Or should I bring my own?"

Is he fucking serious? That's what he wanted to ask...if there were snacks….in our book club.

I decided to give a tight-lipped smile and replied, "I don't think you need to bring any." I paused. As soon as the words flew out my mouth, I regretted them. Though I knew the comment probably flew over his head, it was a cruel thing to say to the only person to join me on this lonely afternoon. In an attempt to remedy my transgression, I continued, "We don't want to get anything on the books, you know?"

"Of course! I always like keeping my books pristine!" He exclaimed, obviously sounding like he was trying to cover the relief in his voice. Something about him gives me a dirty feeling...like being with him means being surrounded by soot and ashes. Despite his normal appearance, nothing about him seems overly clean to me.

I hummed in reply and went back to reading, no longer in the mood for useless conversation.

After a few minutes of stiff silence and the feeling of Ray watching me read, I broke the silence "It's a book club, you know."

"I do...know that," he answered pathetically.

"So, where's your book?" I asked, nodding to his empty hands. I asked him to the club pretty early on into lunch, logically giving him plenty of time to go to the library and get a book if he didn't have one. Maybe if he hadn't spent the entire time eating, he could've prepared himself.

"Oh—"

"Stop saying that," I snapped, getting annoyed at his pathetic attitude. It's disgusting how he starts most sentences with something sounding like a gasp, like he's always struggling to suck up more oxygen.

"Ah, it's...in my bag," he concluded.

I gave him a look that told him to get it. He reached into his bag and retrieved his chosen (more like given) book from English. Crime and Punishment...not a bad book. Not one of my personal favourites, but not a complete waste of time or paper.

"It doesn't have to be your book from class," I stated, making sure he didn't just choose that because I'm reading my book from class. Hopefully, this kid has good taste in literature.

"I know." He paused. "I just really like it." Bullshit.

Instead of replying, I just hummed in acknowledgement and went back to my book, immediately getting absorbed into the universe of impossible sciences.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chap will be from Stephen's POV, and the next Ray's, and so on. : )


End file.
